It was a perfect day, cool and breezy, sparkling sun dotting the deep blue horizon. A day that had seen my best ride to date, by far, since returning to riding after a 6 year absence.

I did over 1500 feet of climbing on tough grades, 5-10 percent, even some a bit more steep than that. What was rare, was even me passing some riders in the flats, were I'm anything but fast. Ok, I'm slow!

A mere six blocks from home, airy pedal strokes hasting my descent, is when it suddenly changed. An all too common situation, going straight through an intersection, and then (right then), a car turned right in front of me from my own lane.

I remember the sudden appearance of the truck in my path. It was that instantaneous recognition in the mind that states, loudly and clearly - F#*k, I'm not going to make it.

Then as if in slow motion, the impact. Going over the bars of the bike, catapulted into the air, landing heavily on my right shoulder. The impact. The radiating pain. The hazy gaze through flowing tears. The bike, crushed under the tire of the truck. The paramedics. My head spinning. The ambulance.

A badly sprained shoulder, sharp abrasions and cuts on my shoulders, elbow, and knee, plus a cracked rib.

Now I'm home, alive, and doing ok, though with a badly aching shoulder, a rotator cuff in pieces, stinging road rash, ribs that hurt immensely at movement, don't even ask me about sneezing or coughing. That's absolute masochism for me at this juncture.

In my mind, I've replayed the entire sequence endlessly. Could I have somehow done anything different? What if I had been going faster or slower? The possibilities are never-ending, and there's little sense outsmarting yourself with 'what if's'